


The Cadence of Your Breath

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blind!Castiel, Chance Meetings, Disfigurement, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: Sometimes Meg wondered if there was something special about Castiel, something that only him could give her than none of the other guys she had met and dated had or if she had been alone for so long, craving intimacy for so long, that she had latched onto the first guy that had offered it to her. Both possibilities were bad for their own reasons.





	1. Chapter 1

_Oh, no, is he lost?_

He certainly looked so. He was standing in the corner, his head moving in every direction and his cane tapping the ground impatiently as if he was trying to orient himself, but it was definitely not working out for him. The light had changed a couple of times and a couple of people had come over to offer him to help him cross, but he had rejected them. Probably because he wasn't sure which way he should be going.

Meg stood on the corner right across the street. She knew this guy. She recognized his messy dark hair and his sunglasses. He lived in her building. He had moved there recently and she'd seen him a couple of times when she returned from doing groceries or when she came back from work. They had exchanged maybe a dozen words and most of them had been of the "good morning" or "please, hold the door" type. She wasn't even certain which floor it was that he lived in, but she knew it was on the same building as hers.

For a moment, Meg considered being selfish. She was a selfish person, she had been told so multiple times in her life. She was carrying several pounds worth of groceries that made her arms feel tired. She'd had a long day at the hospital and all she wanted to do was go home, flail down on the couch and binge-watch TV while drinking beer until she passed out. Tomorrow was her free day. She could absolutely do so. Eventually, her blind neighbor would get oriented or he'd asked his direction to someone and they would guide him there. He'd be fine.

But something was tugging in the back of her mind, a feeling she couldn't shake. The feeling that she should help this poor guy in need or the overwhelming guilt of not doing so would nag her for the rest of the weekend.

In the end, with a sigh, she crossed the street and walk up to him.

"Excuse me," she told him. "I think I know where you live."

"Oh," he muttered. There was a note of surprise in his gruff voice, but he smiled nonetheless. "Well, that would make one of us."

His fingers were a feather touch on Meg's arm and he walked as far from her as he could, almost as if he was trying not to invade her personal space. Meg waked him across the street and towards their building's entrance and let him fumble with the electronic key. He nodded in satisfaction when the door beeped opened for him.

"Thank you," he said, while they crossed the lobby towards the elevator. "You have been most helpful."

"You're welcome," Meg said. She told herself she wasn't going to ask, but in the end, her curiosity was greater. "How did you get lost in the first place?"

"It was absolutely my own fault, really," he said, as if Meg was going to blame someone else. "I've heard this neighborhood had a beautiful park and I wanted to visit it, but I got the directions wrong."

"Oh, yeah, that park," Meg remembered. "It's not that far away."

"I'll take your word for it."

The elevator door opened and they stepped inside, awkward silence falling on them once more.

"Can I ask your name?"

"Why?" Meg asked, and immediately regretted. It didn't really matter if he knew her name or not. She wasn't in danger anymore.

"I just want to know who my savior is."

"I'm not a savior," Meg huffed. "I just... my name is Meg," she concluded, before she could keep on protesting.

"Nice to meet you, Meg. I’m Castiel. And may I add; you have a beautiful voice."

What was that? Was the blind guy flirting with her?

"Well, of course you would note that," she muttered.

That was a horrible comment to make. Anybody else would have told her it was insensitive and plain wrong to joke about a blind guy she'd just met about his blindness and she probably should be shunned from society for it. At the very least, it would kill the conversation.

Castiel merely chuckled. As if it didn't bother him at all.

The elevator stopped with a bling.

"This is the fourth floor, yes?"

"Yes," Meg confirmed.

"One time I descended on the wrong floor," he explained. "It was embarrassing to explain to that neighbor I didn't intend to break into their apartment."

Meg bit back a laugh as he stepped out, his cane tapping on the floor as he mouthed to himself. She probably should have left the elevator door close and forget about it - she had done her good action of the day and that was more than she did most days. But at the last second, she planted her feet between the closing doors and popped her head out. Castiel was at the end of the hallway, fumbling with his keys in front of what was (hopefully) his apartment's door. He stopped and tilted his head.

"Meg?" he called out.

"Uh... yes," she replied.

"Is there a problem? Why haven't you left?"

Meg opened her mouth and closed it again, as if she'd just completely run out of air.

"I was just..." She couldn't complete the phrase. Making jokes about his blindness was one thing, patronizing him by making sure he got into his own place was entirely different. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go to the park tomorrow," she said, mentally kicking herself for being utterly unable to think of another thing to say fast enough. "I could... lead you there so you don't get lost again."

"I wouldn't want to bother you," he said.

"It's my free day," she explained. "It's not like I've got something better to do."

Castiel turned his head towards her, though not completely.

"That would be delightful," he said. "I'll see you at... ten?"

"Make it eleven. I'm not a morning person."

He chortled again and his keys found their way into the keyhole. He stepped inside and Meg backed up into the elevator again.

Did she just invite the blind guy to a date because he flirted with her for two hot seconds on the elevator? That was pathetic. It really was the saddest thing she had done in her life, and God knew she'd done sad and desperate things before.

And yet, as she put her groceries away in the kitchen, she couldn't help but to smile. The touch of his fingers on her arm still lingered, the way his smile seemed to spread across his fuzz covered cheeks, his laughter that sounded like a purr...

Okay, he was handsome. A handsome guy had flirted with her and she'd asked him on a date. That was what'd happened and there was nothing wrong with that. It had been two years. Perhaps it was time she started doing that again.

She sat on her couch and put on her Netflix queue, but ten minutes into the second episode of her binge she realized she wasn't paying attention. Her mind would irremediably fly back to Castiel over and over again, repeating every single detail of their brief interaction and reminding her over and over that they had a date the following morning.

Was it a date, though? She hadn't made it explicitly clear. She'd just offered to walk him to the park. So maybe it wasn't, and why was she overthinking it so much?

Frustrated, she turned off the TV and went to do exactly what she actually wanted to do: open her closet and select what she was going to wear the following day. Not because Castiel would be able to appreciate how much effort she put into her outfit, but because she needed the confidence to know she was going to look her best despite it.

Two hours later, she had entirely emptied her closet and was down to final decision between a purple sundress (she'd checked the weather, it would a warm day tomorrow) and an orange shirt with ribbons and her favorite pair of jeans. She tried them both out in front of the mirror, and finally reached the conclusion her clothes weren't the reason she was so self-conscious.

The scar crossed her face diagonally from her left temple, over her nose bridge to end in her right cheek, pink and twisted over her skin. She had found that with enough make-up, she could make it less noticeable (at least, less grotesque looking), but as the weeks and the months had gone on, she decided not to cover it anymore out of pure frustration. It was hard enough to get up in the morning; she wasn't willing to spend thirty minutes in front of the mirror coughing thanks to the powder just because her face made other people uncomfortable.

And she knew it did. Nobody had to tell her that: some patients startled in their chair and others tried to pretend they weren't boggled by it. Some were even good enough that they could conceal their surprise after a few seconds and talk to her normally. Kids were horrible because they didn't know it was rude to point out other people's defects.

She still remembered the blonde girl in the girl dress that had practically shrieked upon seeing her.

"Mommy, what happened to her face?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH HER FACE?!"

Her mother had dragged her out of the room before Meg could turn around and told her she'd got the scar from a monster that disfigured rude children. She'd used that on another girl that had asked the same question (though at a much lower volume) and then she'd had to hear from the hospital's director because the mother had complained about her.

Little boys were a little bit better. They related scars with badass fighters or soldiers, survivors, and as such, their looks were more of admiration than of horror.

"Cool," a seven-year-old boy had said, with admiration in his voice, when Meg had told her she'd got the scar by fighting off a knife-wielding vampire. They loved to hear that sort of things. It made their appendectomy operation coming up seem less scary.

Old ladies, however, were by far the worst. They thought their closeness to the grave was enough excuse to throw manners out of the window

"It's such a shame about your face, darling," one had told her, holding her hand as if Meg needed consolation. "You'd be so pretty if it wasn't for it."

"Thanks," Meg said through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

"Can't you have plastic surgery? I've heard they do wonders these days with cases like yours."

Meg told her she was thinking about it, although she had decided years ago that just wasn't the road for her. She had barely finished paying her student loans and she wasn't ready to get into another massive debt just so she would stop hearing ladies who couldn't mind their own business telling her what to do. Though sometimes she was tempted to. She had gone as far as to consult with a surgeon, but after hearing how many of her face nerves would be at risk, she'd resigned the idea completely.

Eventually, people who spent enough time around her (namely, the doctors and other nurses) got used to it. The neighbors no longer stared when they found her in the elevator or the washing room. The scar didn't bother her at all.

Except for two things: she could never have a career in crime because police could easily identify her by it and dating was a nightmare. She had tried. The first topic of conversation was always the stupid scar and how she'd come into possession of it. And that was a long, complicated story that Meg didn't like telling. But the fact she didn't talk about it apparently made it all the more fascinating, because they wouldn't fucking stop staring, to the point where something that hadn't bothered her in the least when she'd come out of her house now was irritating her to no end. Those dates tended to end up brusquely and rarely had a follow up. Some guys never contacted her again, some tried to apologize, but Meg never returned their calls.

And so, she hadn't got laid in almost two years. What a horrible life.

And what a horrible thing that she was considering dating the blind guy because he would definitely not stare at her scar. She was a horrible person.

But it was too late to cancel it. Figuratively and literally. She had no way of contacting him unless she went down to his door and called him, and it was almost two in the morning. It'd be plain impolite.

She ended up choosing the sundress. It would be less effort to put it on in the morning.

 

* * *

 

She picked him up at eleven and two minutes. People who knew her would say that was an anomaly, that she was usually late for most things. But after deciding she wasn't going to try to pursue anything from Castiel, except perhaps a casual friendship, she wanted to go through it as soon as possible.

"Good morning," he said, smiling when he opened the door. He already had his sunglasses on. He had chosen a button up shirt and black slacks for the day. His black hair was in disarray and still a little damp from the shower.

And he looked amazing.

"Good morning," Meg said and stretched her hand to touch his arm. "Shall we?"

Castiel picked up his cane from behind the door and walked with her to the elevator.

"I like your perfume," he commented as they went down. "It's... very enticing."

"It's very expensive, that's what it is," Meg replied. "And I don't get to use it a lot, so consider yourself lucky you get to smell it."

"I already do."

Meg didn't ask what he meant by that.

The sun was up in a clear blue sky and since it was Saturday, there was a lot of people on the street. However, most of them stepped aside when they saw them coming out of deference for Castiel. His arm was lassoed firmly around hers as they walked, and Meg could feel his muscles through the shirt. She tried not to pay too much attention to that.

"Yesterday I walked three blocks straight and then turned left," Castiel commented. "And then I walked five more blocks and realized I wasn't arriving to any park, so I made my way back the best I could."

"Well, you ended up close, so you get credit for that," Meg said. "You should have turned right, though, and you’d have been in the park in just a couple of minutes."

"I knew it," Castiel groaned. He sounded mighty irritated with himself. “It’s still my fault. It probably wasn’t the brightest idea to move to a new place after my seeing eye dog retired.”

"Uh... sorry to hear that," Meg said, because she wasn't sure what people were supposed to say at a comment like that.

"It's alright. He'll spend his last years playing with my friend Sam's children. They're all dog lovers," he explained. "I haven't got around finding a new one out of pure pride."

"That's a lot of changes," Meg said. "I mean, you move to a new place, your dog retires... no wonder you're a bit... disoriented."

She thought she might have crossed some sort of line, but Castiel only smiled kindly.

"I guess you're right," he said.

The park was also full of people, but they managed to find a bench not far away from the children's playground. Castiel seemed pleased by that: he settled down on the bench with a sigh and moved his head instinctively towards the sun shining down upon them.

"What a beautiful day," he commented.

Meg was more of a rainstorms and winter kind of gal, but she could see the appeal.

"Tell me about yourself, Meg."

"What's there to tell?" Meg asked.

"I don't know. Anything, everything," he replied. "I've been living here for months and you're perhaps the first friend I've made."

Friends. Okay, so it wasn't a date. Meg didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed by that.

"There's nothing too interesting about me," she said.

"But there must be," Castiel insisted. "I'm sure you can make the most trivial things sound interesting."

"You're sticking with the beautiful voice thing, huh?" Meg joked, a little amused. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you about me, but only if you do the same."

"Deal," Castiel agreed.

Meg took a deep breath and watched the children playing in the swings, laughing and running around like they didn't have a care in the world. It saddened her a little, so she turned to look at Castiel's profile again.

"Well, I'm a nurse."

"Ah, that's why you're so kind."

"The hospital director wouldn't agree with that," Meg said. "I have a tendency to sass the patients who annoy me."

"You're no nonsense kind of woman," he guessed. "I like that."

"Do you always tell people what you like about them right away?"

"Yes," he confessed with ease. "I have come to learn life is too short to hold back on compliments and niceties."

"It's also too short to hold back on telling people to shut the hell up," Meg said. It was a little surprising they had such a similar life philosophy, yet they faced it in such a different way.

Castiel seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he chuckled.

"Okay, your turn."

"Very well." Castiel shifted his position so his body was facing her now. She knew it was impossible, but she had the strange feeling that he was observing her in silence. "I'm thinking you are a brunette..."

"What?"

"Well, you said you would tell me about you if I did the same," Castiel pointed out. "So I'm doing that."

"I meant for you to tell me about yourself, smartass," Meg replied, with a scoff. But at least Castiel couldn't see her blushing furiously.

"Very well, but first tell me if I'm right."

"Right about what?"

"Are you a brunette?"

Meg entertained the thought of lying to him, just to wipe that smug smile from his face. But that would have killed the game, so she sighed.

"Yes, I'm a brunette. Your turn," she repeated, and this time he wasn't getting away with it so easily.

"Fine. I'm a composer," he said. "I write the instrumentation for some TV shows and also commercial jingles. It reports me a modest income."

"Ah, something I might have heard?"

"If you'd ever seen the latest commercial for Biggerson's..."

"The one with the turtle?" Meg laughed. "Oh, my God, I hate you now. That thing is an earworm."

"Thank you. That was the point of it."

Meg shook her head, furious, and then realized Castiel couldn't know she was doing it.

"I hope you don't hate me for long," he said, despite it. "I still have a lot of questions about you."

"Like?"

"Do you have a family?"

"I have my dad and my brother," Meg said. "They live two states away. I go visit on the holidays. You?"

"I have eight brothers and sisters."

"Eight?" Meg repeated, but she didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified. She had, for some time, entertained the idea of children, but that just seemed excessive.

"I come from a religious family who thinks all children the Lord sends are a blessing," Castiel explained. "I know my mother has doubted that dogma in the case of my brother Gabriel, but still..."

"That's insane," Meg sighed. "Where did you even live?"

"We actually had a small farm in Illinois. We grew up in a woody area, with lots of space and green. That's why sometimes I find it hard to adjust to the city."

Meg didn't say a word for several minutes. She had grown in a one bedroom apartment with paper thin walls. She and Tom had a bunker bed and their dad slept in the living room. They'd hit a rough patch that had extended longer than he had expected. Sometimes she had wished they could live in a farm where she could run and maybe have a pet.

She didn't tell him that. Like many things that happened in her life afterwards, it was far too depressing.

"I wasn't born blind."

Meg startled. The declaration had caught her unaware.

"What?"

"Whenever I mention my childhood, people notice I speak of the green woods around our house," Castiel explained. "The inevitable follow-up question is how I would know they were green. The answer, obviously, is I went blind when I was around nine years old. It's a rare form of glaucoma, a congenic disease... that none of my siblings inherited. I just had a bad day at the genetic lottery."

"Oh, you're blind? I haven't even noticed," Meg tried to joke.

It worked. The smile reappeared on his face and they moved on from the topic.

Meg confessed she liked watching TV and drinking beer, while Castiel favored whiskey and audiobooks. He had a treadmill at home; Meg had a gym membership (she didn't mention she hadn't used it in months). Meg ate lots of junk food; Castiel had never had a pretzel.

"Oh, my God, you're missing out on life!" Meg exclaimed when he told her that. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "We're having one, right now. It's almost lunch time anyway."

"Oh... alright," Castiel said.

He seemed surprised by Meg's sudden burst of energy and she was, too. Usually she wasn't all that enthusiastic about things. She was far too tired to be enthusiastic most of the time, but for some reason, that day was turning out far better than she had expected it. The way Castiel crunched his nose when he had his first bite was simply too adorable.

"This is... wow, this is..."

"I know, right?" Meg laughed.

They stayed in the coffee shop talking for so long the waitresses started giving them sideway glances. After three hours, they left a generous tip and walked back home.

"This has been a wonderful morning, Meg," he said.

"And afternoon," she added.

"And afternoon," he agreed with a little nod. "Maybe we could have a repeat?"

Meg had to stop and think about it. Not because she didn't have a great time (which she had) or because she didn't like Castiel (which she did, a lot, more than she probably should), but because she had taken extra shifts the entire following week to replace a coworker who was pregnant and because the extra cash was never a bad thing. She hadn't planned on meeting a guy precisely that week. Or ever.

"Maybe we can visit each other after I come out of work," she said. "Except the nights I have the graveyard shift. I slip into a coma as soon as I come home those days."

She'd never had a guy laughing at so many of her jokes. Perhaps because he still hadn't heard the worst of her black and insensitive humor.

"I could cook dinner for you, if you're too tired," he offered.

And if he wasn't trying to flirt with her that was probably the worst thing he could have said. 'Cause it definitely had been ages since someone had cooked for her. She shouldn't take advantage of his kindness. She shouldn't encourage this to become anything more than a casual friendship. She shouldn't want this as much as she did.

"That would be nice."


	2. Chapter 2

Meg never was one for routines, but in the following weeks, she found herself making arrangements to avoid the night shifts. That way she could go home and have dinner with Castiel three, sometimes four nights a week. He cooked a mean lasagna and in turn Meg dusted off her old baking skills and made cakes and cookies for dessert.

Castiel had required some assistance in the kitchen the first time he came to her apartment (Meg had carefully removed anything he could trip over from the floor), but afterwards, he found his way around with ease. Meg put on scented candles and functional music, since he couldn't appreciate the fact it was orderly or not.

"Are you trying to impress me, Nurse Masters?" he asked, jokingly.

"Is it working?" she replied.

The played like that sometimes. They flirted a lot, but nothing entirely too serious. Castiel never tried to grab her hand if she didn't reach out for him first and apologized profusely whenever he came into contact with her by accident. He seemed to try to go out of his way to stay out of her personal space.

Which was a shame, because Meg had developed a strange fixation with his hands. She watched him cut the vegetables for the dinner or stir up the pot and wondered what it would feel like to have those hands around her, on her waist, holding her tight, petting her hair...

But then again, that might also imply face touching, and she wasn't sure she was ready for that just yet. There was such a comfortable routine between the two just the way it was, as friends, that perhaps it was better to leave those thoughts in the back of her head, where they belonged.

Castiel had a grand piano in the middle of his living room. That was the first thing that came to her attention when she visited him. It occupied most of the space, black and shiny and elegant. There were pictures and vases with artificial flowers around and a shelf of books, for decoration, she figured. The entire room smelled like polished wood and vanilla.

"Nice place," Meg congratulated him.

"Thank you. My sister Hannah helped me decorate," he explained. "She tried to make it less... hostile for visitors."

"Well, tell her this visitor is very pleased with her work."

"I would not mention I had a girl visiting me to any of my sisters if I was under torture," Castiel replied. "They're relentless in their teasing."

Meg could understand that. She had made the mistake of mentioning Castiel to her father when he spoke to him on the phone weeks ago and she still hadn't heard the end of it.

"Does he have a job? An actual job, Meg, not like the last one."

"Dad, I'm not... he wrote the jingle for the Biggerson's commercial," Meg said, because trying to dodge the question was pointless.

"The one with the turtle? I love that one, it's so funny!"

"Yeah, he's annoyingly proud of it," Meg sighed, rolling her eyes though there was no there to direct her irritation at.

"Bring him home next time you come visit. I'd like to meet him."

"I'm not dating him, dad!"

It mattered very little to her dad. He had decided Castiel was Meg’s boyfriend (or would be soon, anyway) and he referred to him as such whenever they talked on the phone.

“How’s your boyfriend doing? Tell him I saw the new Biggerson commercial, the one with the duck. It’s very funny.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Meg sighed, because at this point, she didn’t think her father would pay attention to her, no matter how much she protested and insisted that she wasn’t dating Castiel.

“I’m very glad you found someone decent, sweetie,” he continued. “You deserve someone that makes you happy. He makes you happy, right?”

“Yeah, Dad. He does.”

And at least that wasn’t a lie. She liked to listen to Castiel ramble on and on about music and cooking and the quality of the audio books he downloaded. She liked to guide him down the street when they went grocery shopping together, even though she was pretty sure he didn’t need her to after the third or fourth time. She liked the way his arm latched onto hers, so firmly, yet so kindly. And she especially loved the long nights they spent together in his balcony, drinking and talking for hours at a time.

“It’s beautiful up here,” Meg commented one time. She had taken off her shoes and tucked her feet up in the chair, relaxed and peaceful like she hadn’t felt in quite a while.

“I wouldn’t know. My sisters assured me it’s quite a stunning view, but they didn’t delve into details,” Castiel replied. “Would you care to?”

It took Meg a second to understand he was asking her to describe the view from his balcony and she couldn’t help but to feel a little flustered. She wasn’t the greatest at describing things, but she still attempted to.

“It’s… imagine a dark blue night sky that stretched on for miles and miles. And all the stars are shinning, but they’re golden instead of silver. Now imagine that sky is at your feet or right in front of you instead of above. That’s pretty much what it is.”

“It does sound beautiful,” he admitted.

He stretched his hand towards her and found her arm. Meg moved her hand so their fingers intertwined and squeezed a little. If her heart started pounding a little faster because of it, that wasn’t anyone’s business but hers. They remained right where they were, holding hands for a very long time. Then, Castiel did something he hadn’t done before in front of her: he took off his glasses and lowered them to his lap.

Meg was glad he couldn’t see the expression on her face, because she was very rudely staring at him. His eyes were striking, bright and impossibly blue. They weren’t like the sky, not quite. It was more like staring up the sky while underwater on a sunny day.

Despite her not saying anything, Castiel must have perceived something in her silence, because he toyed with his glasses nervously.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Would you rather I put them back on? I wouldn’t want you to feel awkward.”

“Why would I feel awkward?” Meg asked.

“Well, you know… some people do,” he explained.

“What people?”

“Strangers. Some children,” Castiel said. There was a pause and then: “My ex-wife.”

That caught her by surprise. Nothing in Castiel’s apartment indicated that he had been married at some point in time, but then again, that must have been because his sisters had decorated it for him. And by the hurt in his voice, Meg figured they wouldn’t have wanted to keep any trace of that woman.

“Why?” she asked, frowning. “I mean, if she married you, she must have known. She must have been… used to seeing your eyes.”

Castiel shuffled in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable with that line of questioning and Meg was just about to change the subject, to tell him he didn’t need to tell her anything, when he kept talking:

“April… she loved me very much when we were young,” he explained. “We got married too soon, perhaps. I’ve heard that’s common in children who come from very conservative Christian families, as we both did. And at first it was… it was blissful. We were happy, but… when it came time to talk about having children…”

His voice trailed off. Meg moved her chair a little closer to his. She didn’t know why. Perhaps because the sadness in his face was immense and she wanted to let him know she was there for him.

“We wanted some, we both did,” he explained. “But we had studies done, and well… there was a chance that our children might have the same illness that blinded me as well. It was pretty miniscule, since no one in her family and none of my siblings had it, but still, the possibility haunted April. She started resenting me, fearing that if we had children they would have to grow up like me. I tried telling her that, while I wouldn’t wish any of my children to be blind, of course, it wasn’t a tragedy as she was making it seem. I had a good life. I had a loving wife. My blindness had never stopped me from being happy. She… well, it was at that point that I understood there was a component of commiseration in her love towards me.”

He said it without hesitation, without any trace of self-pity for it. He even sounded a bit irritated. As if the fact he didn’t think his blindness was holding him back meant no one else was allowed to think so, either. It made a lot of sense to Meg.

“By the time we decided to get a divorce, she was extremely uncomfortable seeing me without the glasses,” Castiel finished. “And I know perhaps she wasn’t the best to judge by, but… I’m a bit self-conscious about it now.”

“Well, I don’t mind,” Meg said, sincerely. “I know what is like to make people uncomfortable with your very presence.”

She’d said it without thinking, without stopping to consider Castiel didn’t know about the scar. He frowned, confused, and as every time he turned his head towards her, it was as if he was focusing a bit to the side.

“I can’t imagine why anyone would be disturbed by your presence,” he said. “I thought we’d establish you’re a very beautiful woman.”

“Or, maybe that’s what I want you to think. Ever considered that?” Meg teased. “Maybe I have a third arm growing on my side and you’d be none the wiser.”

Castiel dragged his chair a little closer to her. Before Meg could ask why he was doing that, he rotated his whole body towards her and put his hands on her torso. He stopped for a second, as if he thought she was going to push him away, but Meg’s curiosity had been piqued. He moved his hands down to her waist, and very slowly, he slid them back up until he reached her armpits and slid down the inside of her arms until he found her hands. He intertwined his fingers with hers and smirked a little.

“No third arm,” he commented. “But you do have very terse skin.”

“Thanks. I moisturize,” Meg laughed, but the chuckles froze in her throat. They were extremely close to one another and she wasn’t sure when that had happened. Their knees were grazing and they were leaning towards each other so close she could count the cuts in his chapped lips. She sucked in a deep breath and moved backwards before she could even think about it.

“Meg?” he asked, letting go of her hands right at the same second. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Meg said. And it wasn’t a lie. She wasn’t uncomfortable and that was the strangest thing. She didn’t remember when it had been the last time she had been this close to a guy (to anybody, in fact) and not felt like there was something extremely wrong. And she still didn’t, but wasn’t that an indication that there was something wrong?

She was a mess. She needed to go back to her apartment, to her chaos, and not think about how hard her heart was beating and how her eyes seemed to fix automatically on Castiel’s lips. She let go of his hands and stood up.

“I’m sorry. I… uh, I have to go,” she muttered, unable to come up with a good excuse.

“Okay,” he muttered.

He didn’t sound angry, just… disappointed. He picked up his glasses from where he had left them and deliberately put them back on. Meg felt the impulse to tell him that it wasn’t like that; she was the one who had things to hide. But at the last second, her cowardice got the better of her. She didn’t even give him time to walk her to the door.

Of course, she didn’t sleep a wink that night. She tossed and turned, running scenarios in her head, of what she could have told him or what she could have done. And of course, the terrifying scenarios of when she actually had to see him again. That had to be the worst of all: knowing that the following day, or the next, or the next, she would run into him in the elevator or down at the laundry room. She would have to give an explanation for running out on him like that or why she was avoiding him now. And she had no idea what she would say then.

Except she didn’t think she could really avoid him. She had been alone for so long, without a friend or someone to talk to, that the very idea of not talking to Castiel for several days terrified her.

So the following day, she passed by a grocery store after work, put on her best dress and marched downstairs before she had a chance to regret it. Luckily for her, Castiel answered pretty fast. He stood at the doorway, his eyes once again hidden behind the shades and waited in silence. Meg didn’t say a word for a second or two, frozen with the bottle of wine and the grocery bags in her hands.

“Yes?” Castiel inquired, softly.

“Hey,” she muttered. “It’s me.”

“I know. I could smell your perfume,” he replied. He seemed awkward, as if he hadn’t expected her to show up again at his doorstep and now that she had, he wasn’t sure how to react. “I, uh…”

“I brought dinner,” Meg continued saying. “Can I come in?”

For a second, she was completely sure he was going to tell her no, that she had really hurt his feelings and he didn’t want to be in her company right now. But Castiel was better than that.

“Of course,” he said, stepping behind to let her. “I’m… surprised you came, actually.”

Meg busied herself in the kitchen, picking up the things from the bag (the pasta, the cheese, the vegetables, the ice cream for dessert) and leaving them on his kitchen counter, wondering where and how she should begin saying what she had to say.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said, in the end. “I freaked out a little.”

“I understand…”

“It wasn’t because of anything you did,” she added quickly, turning towards him. It was better to be facing him while she spoke, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. “I… haven’t been in a relationship in a while, Cas. I just… this whole thing took me by surprise.”

Apparently, it had taken him by surprise too, because his eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline.

“Are we… in a relationship?”

“We’ve been having dinner dates for weeks now,” Meg pointed out. “I’d say we’re slowly inching our way there.”

Well, it was out in the open and there was no way of taking it back now. Castiel seemed stunned for a few seconds more, but then, slowly, his lips stretched on a wide, happy grin. Meg groaned and took a step to stand right in front of him. She placed her hands on the side of his glasses, and when he didn’t tell her to stop, she pulled them out, folded them and left them over the counter. His blue eyes shone bright underneath the kitchen light and Meg had to resist the impulse to stand on her toes and kiss his eyelids.

“Let’s just make dinner, okay?” she said, because that had been as heavy a conversation as she was willing to have that night.

“Very well,” Castiel agreed, still smiling to himself. “And what have you, oh, brave chef, brought for us to dine tonight?”

“We’re having ravioli. You can start chopping the tomatoes for the sauce.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Did you just sass me, Castiel?”

“I would never dare.”

The rest of the night was as easy as it had been before and Meg couldn’t be more thankful for that. They joked and talked as if nothing had happened and if they hadn’t just admitted that they were a little bit less than strangers, a little bit more than friends.

They washed the dishes together and he walked her to the door after they were done.

“Don’t forget to put the ice cream on the fridge,” Meg warned him as he opened up for her. “I wouldn’t want you to have a mess in your kitchen.”

“Yes, because I am completely hopeless and didn’t survive into adulthood by myself,” he replied. The sarcasm in his voice was so thick Meg could have cut it with a knife.

“No, because you could slip and fall and break your skull,” Meg replied. “And as a certified nurse, I can tell you that hurts like hell.”

“Well, as a certified blind person…” he started, but then he realized he had nowhere to go with that reply. “Yes, falling is quite painful.”

“Ha,” Meg said, triumphal.

They stood on the doorway, however, ignoring the melting ice cream and the fact it was pretty late and Meg had to be up and about to go to work very soon. Meg had the sensation there was something they hadn’t quite done yet, something left hanging between the two that needed to be addressed, words unsaid that couldn’t be pronounced at any other moment by that.

“Well…” Castiel started.

Meg put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him down. She left a soft peck at the edge of his lips, quick and simple, and on the side where her cheek wasn’t marked. She stepped back before he tried to reach for her or tried to touch her, before he felt the roughness in her skin and asked about it. He had shared so many things about him and eventually, she would have to as well. But she wasn’t ready right now.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled, softly.

“Goodnight to you,” he replied, in the same hushed voice.

Meg walked towards the elevator without looking back. But when she stopped in front of it, she realized Castiel was still standing on the doorway.

“Cas?” she called him.

“Yes?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure you got to the elevator right.”

“It’s not that long of a walk,” she pointed out, but she couldn’t bit back her smile. She remembered standing at that very same spot, watching Castiel fumble with his keys and worrying about him.

“I am aware of that,” he said. “I merely…”

The elevator stopped and the doors pinged open.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Meg said, even though she was pretty sure they had already said goodbye like four times that night.

“Yes,” he replied. “Sleep well.”

She stepped inside of the elevator and leaned against the wall over trembling knees. Her heart was pounding so fast it drowned out every other sound in her ears and her head was dizzy. Falling in love so hard and so fast had definitely not been part of her plan.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a subtle change in their relationship after that night. It would have been difficult to describe it to an outside observer, but Meg noticed it, and she was pretty certain Castiel did as well.

They spent even more time together, to the point Meg went directly to his apartment when she returned from work, not even bothering to change out of her scrubs anymore, and stayed there later than before, looking for little excuses like Castiel needing help to order his cabinets or finding the right spot for a vase his sister Hannah had sent him as a gift and deciding what kind of flowers he should put in them. They both knew those reasons were bullshit and they only wanted to spend more time together. Eventually, they ditched them all together and Meg started bringing magazines to read while Castiel worked on his music or when there was nothing interesting to watch in Netflix or when the show she wanted to show him didn’t have audio descriptions.

She started feeling she only went back to her apartment to sleep and only because that was one of the last lines she had imposed to herself. However, she knew it was just a mattered of time. Castiel had a way to fly right over all of her lines and walls effortlessly.

But what she really did when she was there was watch him compose. He played the same melody over and over again. His fingers slid like gracious dancers in a well-rehearsed choreography over the piano tiles. His mouth twisted in a particular way when he didn’t like what he was hearing and he played it again, changing the notes or the rhythm to go faster or slower, until he finally managed to get the sound he wanted. He leaned back with a satisfied smirk in his face on such occasions and nodded to the piano, as if they had been having a very heated discussion and had finally come to an understanding.

“Is that for a jingle?” she asked him.

“This? No. This is something I’m writing for myself.”

“Really? I didn’t know…” Meg’s voice trailed off, but of course Castiel wasn’t going to let that go that easily. He tilted his head in her direction and asked:

“What? What didn’t you know?”

“That you wrote as a… you know, for pleasure,” she explained. It sounded stupid out loud, so she tried to clarify: “I thought it was just your job.”

“It is my job. It’s also something that brings me great pleasure,” Castiel explained. “I am lucky enough that both things happen to coincide.”

“Well, that’s great for you, I guess,” Meg said, sarcastically. “‘Cause I definitely don’t enjoy giving old people sponge baths and bandaging wounds.”

Castiel chuckled to himself and stretched his arms above his head.

“When the doctor told us I was going to lose my sight, I was scared, of course. I spent many days crying and feeling desperate. So one day, my sister Hannah came home with an album by Stevie Wonder, no less. And she continued bringing me albums of blind musicians of different walks of life and styles. It was as if she was telling me that losing my eyes didn’t mean that I was going to lose everything beautiful in my life.”

“You must be very close,” Meg commented.

“She’s arguably my best friend,” Castiel replied.

He stayed in silence for a moment and then moved her head in Meg’s general direction.

“Can I ask you something?” he said and when Meg told him to go ahead, he added: “Do you mind reading for me?”

Meg startled. He had praised her voice in the past, but this was new.

“Don’t you have audiobooks to do that?”

“Audiobooks are fine for novels and such,” he added. “But I like to hear poetry sometimes and that’s just… well, not that easy to find. My sister Hael used to read it for me, but since I moved here I regrettably have no one else to do it.”

Meg couldn’t claim she knew about the persistence and quality of poetry audiobooks, but she decided to take his word for it. She had wondered how come some of the books in his shelf had a creased backs. She stood up, grabbed one and opened a page randomly.

_How do we come to be here next to each other_

_in the night_

_Where are the stars that show us to our love_

_inevitable_

The words shook her to the core in a way she couldn’t explain. Because they were so appropriate. Because she didn’t believe in the stars or destiny or anything like that, but there she was, falling heads over heel for a man she had only just met and not regretting a single thing…

“Meg?” Castiel called out.

Meg took a deep breath and forgot all her stupid thoughts about love. She had no right to be thinking them anyway. She started again and read the entire poem out loud for him, hoping her inflexions and pauses were good enough for him to enjoy it.

_I am amazed by peace_

_It is this possibility of you_

_asleep_

_and breathing in the quiet air_

Castiel let out a satisfied sigh.

“That’s beautiful,” he muttered.

And so, poetry reading became a part of their nightly routine as well.

They were also more… physical with each other. They reached out to hold hands when they were sitting by each other’s side on Castiel’s balcony or on their favorite park bench. They brushed against each other when they cooked together. Meg was pretty sure she was crossing some sort of line one time when they were in the couch watching a documentary about bird migration and she scooted closer to him and leaned her head over his shoulder. Castiel hadn’t said anything. He’d just place an arm around her shoulders and held her. She could see the little smirk on his lips, though.

It wasn’t a deliberate thing. It wasn’t as if, at some point, Meg had decided she was going to cope as much of a feel of Castiel as she could. She did want that, but she found herself moving back, moving a little just outside of his reach if she realized what she was doing. If she didn’t think about it, though, if she just let herself act, she always leaned closer to him. Almost as if he was the earth and she was the moon who couldn’t resist his pull. It was the corniest thought she’d had in probably her entire life, but it was undeniably true.

And it terrified her.

When she looked up from her book and watched him sitting in his piano, punching papers to write down notes and humming to himself the music he heard in his head, when there was a silent pause between them right after they laughed together, when he drew circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, she realized how deep her feelings for him truly were and how quickly she’d come to accept them. As if the stars had spelled it out for her, as if they had pushed Castiel in her path for her to find him.

Sometimes she wondered if it was truly that, if it was because there was something special about Castiel, something that only him could give her than none of the other guys she had met and dated had or if it was that she had been alone for so long, craving intimacy for so long, that she had latched onto the first guy that had offered it to her. Both possibilities were bad for their own reasons, and sometimes, she wondered if she wasn’t being selfish.

She was selfish when she kept her distance even though he was always so sweet with her. She was selfish when she stood on the tip of her toes to kiss his cheek but never let him kiss her back. She was selfish when she was aware how much of a great person Castiel was and how much he gave to her even when she found herself unable to do the same. She was selfish when she kept her secrets close to her chest, like a child refusing to share their candy. She was selfish to use him to keep away her loneliness.

And never did that become clearer as when spring ended and the days became longer and hotter. It had been three months, almost four since she had found Castiel at his corner. She didn’t cringe or hesitate anymore when her father called him her boyfriend, even though they had only shared a few short kisses and tender touches. She had come to think of him as hers, even though she probably had no right to that.

And she realized how little reciprocity she was willing to give when he brought up the subject of his summer plans.

“I always go visit my family around this time,” he told her. “It’s my mother’s birthday, and we have a reunion of sorts at her house.”

“How long are you going to be away?” Meg asked, distractedly. She was busy trying to scrub a bit of cheese from the plate, so maybe that was why she didn’t notice Castiel’s silence was unusually long.

“I was thinking…” he started. His voice trailed off and he nervously cleared his throat before continuing: “I was thinking… perhaps… you would like to come with me.”

Meg managed to keep the plate from slipping from her hand, though barely. Castiel stood very rigid by her side, twisting the cloth he was using to dry the dishes as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. He had lifted his chin and positioned his eyes vaguely towards Meg’s direction, almost as if he wanted to see her even though that was impossible.

Meg opened her mouth and closed it again. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to answer to that. The familiar dread in her stomach became present. Castiel was pushing against another one of her limits, and this time, he apparently noticed.

“I… why would you…?” she started but went quiet, not knowing how to even finish that question.

“I’ve told my sisters,” he said. “About you. About us. Hannah, Hester and Hael, they’re all very excited to meet you. And the rest of my siblings would, too. Gabriel is kind of a handful and Raphael isn’t always all that friendly, but… I’m sure they’d all be delighted.”

Meg sucked in a deep breath. The seconds went by, quietly, and she still couldn’t find a single word in her mind to answer to that. Castiel shifted his weight on his feet and his shoulders slumped.

“If… if you don’t want to go, that’s alright. I understand it might be hard for you to find time off your work. I’ve told them not to tell mother just yet, not until I had your answer, so you don’t have to worry about her making unnecessary arrangements…”

He was giving her an out. He was offering a myriad of easy excuses for her to say no, almost as if he already expected her to, almost as if he had feared she would say no and he was preemptively finding ways to protect himself against the disappointment. And Meg was still frozen, the plate in her hand dripping water and soap, her hands holding onto it so tight that she knuckles started to hurt.

“Say something,” Castiel urged her. It was almost a plea.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Meg admitted, because for some reason, Castiel always compelled her to tell the truth.

Castiel nodded. The guilt around him was almost palpable.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I knew it was too soon. And now I’ve made you uncomfortable again.”

And Meg wanted to cry. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that it never was his fault, that it was her who couldn’t take the strides necessary to call that an actual relationship, it was her that couldn’t shake her stupid fears and insecurities and just allow herself to be with him.

“I understand you want to take it slow,” he continued. “I told my sisters as much, but they insisted I should at least extend the invitation to you…”

“Who told you I want to take it slow?” Meg croaked. She was still fighting against the lump in her throat and Castiel being so kind to her honestly wasn’t helping.

“You did,” he said. “Not with words, but… I’ve noticed how you don’t like me touching you much and how you usually prefer to be the one to initiate the kiss. It’s okay. I’m willing to wait, Meg. Until you can trust me, I’m… are you crying?”

Meg took in a shaky breath and suppressed another sob. She grabbed a paper napkin and hastily dried her face as much as she could.

“I trust you,” she said. It came out like a weak whisper, so she forced herself to keep breathing until she could speak clearly again. “Cas, I do trust you. I do want to be with you and I don’t want to take it slow.”

Castiel tilted his head, confused.

“Then why do you…?”

Meg stepped towards him and grabbed his hand. Slowly, knowing there was no turning back now that she was doing this, she made him raise it to her face, guiding his fingers across the rough surface of her scar. Castiel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he made no comment as he traced it, carefully, almost reverently. Meg shivered and he immediately removed his hand.

“Does it… does it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Meg replied, sincerely. The skin marked was more sensitive than the rest of her face, but it didn’t cause her any pain. Not physically at least. “It’s… you told me about your ex-wife. I think it’s time I tell you about my ex-boyfriend.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, immediately. “Meg, if it’s too difficult for you…”

And just by saying those words, Meg knew instantly she could trust him. She put the last dishes away and guided him towards the balcony. She didn’t know why. Perhaps the open night air helped her clear her mind and find a way to begin.

“Luc was a junkie,” she told him. “I don’t mean a pothead junkie who smoked a blunt now and then. I mean, he latched on to me to get drugs. It took me longer than I’m proud to admit to figure that out.”

“How long were you with him?”

“Three years. On and off.” Meg leaned against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to keep crying. She had wasted enough tears on that jerk already. “He stole money from my purse; he used my ID to get prescription pills. He almost cost me my job a couple of times. I would kick him and he would disappear for months at a time, only to show up again at my doorstep swearing he had cleaned up his act. And I would take him back and things would be good. For a while, at least. Until it started all over again.”

“You wanted to believe him,” Castiel helped out. “You wanted to give him a second chance.”

“I gave him lots of second chances,” Meg said, with a sad smile. “I don’t know. Maybe a part of me was convinced I wouldn’t be able to find anybody else who loved me if he left forever. I told myself he wasn’t really his addiction, that he was sick, that if I was just patient and kind to him long enough, he would eventually stay on the wagon for good.”

Her voice trailed off. She didn’t have to say what happened next.

“He did that to you,” Castiel guessed. There was a low rumble in his voice, like barely contained anger boiling in his veins.

“He went to the hospital to bring me flowers one time,” Meg told him. “Completely out of the blue. I… we were in one of our good stages, you know? I was so happy, I thought… that was until an hour later when the hospital director called me and told me that somebody had ransacked the medicine storage and taken pretty much all of our Ritalin and Aderall supplies. I cannot explain to you how furious I was. The director told me that he had called the police, but even if I cooperated he would have to tell on me to the medical board. I told him Luc would probably be out of town by now and that if the cops wanted to talk to me, they could come to my place, ‘cause I was taking the rest of the day off. He let me go without putting too much of a fight.”

She made another pause. This was the hardest part of the story, not because of what had happened, but because of how stupid she’d been. Castiel stepped towards her and grabbed her hand. He didn’t say anything, but his squeeze was enough for her to gather the courage to continue.

“I lied,” she admitted. “Luc wasn’t out of town. I knew his M. O. I knew he had gone home and was looking for money or something he could steal from me and pawn. It was going to take him a while, because I had made damn sure to hide everything away. I went to my place to confront him. I figured if I could get him to give the pills back, I wouldn’t have to lose my job. But on the other hand, he had gone too far this time. It was the flowers. If he had just gone to the hospital to steal the pills, maybe I would have tried to find a justification for him again. But he brought me flowers and it just… it felt like he was making fun of me, you know?”

“Meg,” Castiel tried to say.

She started speaking faster, because Castiel was about to offer her another opportunity to stop and if she took it, she might never find the courage to talk about this again.

“Sure enough, I found him in my apartment. He was… he was manic. I’ve seen him high before, but never like that. He was rambling about how he had to go away, how he had got in trouble with some people and he was sorry, he was going to make it up to me soon. I just… I was too furious to see how far gone he was this time and I started berating him and things went from bad to worse from there. I didn’t even see where the hell he got the knife from.”

“Meg,” Castiel repeated, holding her hand even tighter.

“I tried talking him down,” Meg said. “I tried to tell him to calm down, that we could talk about this, that I just wanted to help him. A bunch of bullshit because I was scared… and then the freaking cops knock the door. He went crazy. He accused me of betraying him and he started beating me and I screamed… I didn’t even feel it when he slashed my face. The cops came in and shot him. I don’t remember that part, because by then I was bleeding on the floor and going into shock.”

“Meg… I’m so sorry,” Castiel muttered. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Meg hid her face on his neck, for a little while. Just long enough to collect herself and keep speaking:

“They didn’t even kill him. When he woke up in the hospital, he told the cops that _I_ had attacked him, that he was merely trying to defend himself. Can you believe that?”

“No,” Castiel said. The rumble in his voice had returned.

“Neither did the cops or the judge,” Meg said. “The fact his blood tests came positive for meth and that there was footage of him stealing from the hospital’s storage didn’t help. So yeah, at least they put him away for a long time. The board felt bad for me and let me keep my license. I moved away to start somewhere new.”

The pressure of Castiel’s fingers on her shoulder became greater. It was almost as if he was trying to protect her, to shield her from a past that had already marked her forever. But Meg appreciated the intention anyway.

“Did you hear from him again?” he asked.

“My brother Tom took over my old apartment until the lease was up and he told me Luc sent some letters. I told him to burn them. Why?”

Castiel sighed deeply.

“I was hoping you would say he got into a fight in jail and somebody stabbed him. It’s what he deserves.”

Meg laughed bitterly against his neck.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she commented. She looked up at his face. As always, he had fixed his eyes a little above her head, but that really didn’t matter. She placed her hand on his cheek and gently guided him down.

Their lips met each other easily. They kissed softly at first but then Meg decided that she had been waiting long enough for this. They both had. She stood on the tip of her toes and nibbled his lower lip, signaling him her desire, her desperation. Castiel answered her by pulling her closer to him and tangling his fingers in her hair, one arm around her waist holding her up to him. Tighter than she had been held in a long time. As tight as if he was never going to let her go.

He didn’t let go of her hands while he guided her inside again. He didn’t let go of her mouth when he kissed her again at the same time his hands found his way to her dress’ zipper. And he didn’t let her go when they stumbled on his bed covers, a mess of limbs and mouths and skin. He muttered her name in her ear as he pushed gently into her. And just like that, he had crossed Meg’s very last line.

 

* * *

 

Castiel’s hands were running up and down her arm, slowly, deliberately. Meg sighed happily and moved closer to him. His bed was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. It was early in the morning. The dawn light was starting to invade the room and well… they hadn’t exactly slept a lot the night before. But she didn’t feel tired or groggy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this happy and waking up to Castiel’s gentle touch had no small part in that.

“I swear, I don’t have a third arm, Cas,” she told him. “No other secrets you need to know about, I promise.”

Castiel still kept touching her, caressing her very slowly. Now one of his hands was up on her neck while the other gently grabbed her by the hip and turned her around before he sank his face in her shoulder to leave a gentle kiss there.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered against her skin.

“How would you know?” Meg said.

Any other time, she would have said it jokingly. But after crossing the one last line Meg had been anxious about, it was hard not to wonder what exactly he liked about her. She was selfish and mean and she was damaged. She could pretend like it wasn’t a big deal, but for God’s sake, she had considered dating him just because he couldn’t see her scar, at least at the beginning. If she was being honest with herself (and Castiel deserved nothing but pure honesty), he could probably do better.

“I’ve been listening to you for months,” Castiel said. He slid his hand down her arm and placed her fingers on her wrist, right over her pulse. “The rhythm of your steps, the melody of your voice. Last night I stayed up listening to the beating of your heart and the cadence of your breath. You’re music, Meg Masters. You’re a symphony no one could ever conduct. And you’re beautiful.”

He said it with such conviction it was hard to make fun of him or find a biting answer. How he managed to always leave her speechless, it was something Meg was never quite going to understand. So instead of answering, she snuggled against him and tangled her legs in his, slowly grinding against him until she managed to get the reaction she wanted from him. Castiel’s breath hitched and he passed an arm around her shoulders to hug her close.

“So… how old does your mother turn?” Meg asked in a whisper.

Castiel stiffened. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about my mother in a moment like this…”

“Oh, come on,” Meg laughed in his ear. “I want to know. How else am I going to choose a present for her?”

She stopped moving while she waited for the implications of her tone to sink in Castiel’s brain. When they finally did, a slow grin spread across his face.

“I’ll give you some pointers,” he promised before kissing her earlobe. “Do you have to go to work?”

“Not until the afternoon,” she told him. “So… I have time for us to not talk about your mother and maybe go have some breakfast.”

“We can have Pretzels in the park,” he suggested. “Like on our first date.”

Meg remembered and laughed. It felt right that he called that their very first date. It felt right that she was waking up to him and making plans to meet his family even after they’d only known each other for such a short time. It had felt right from the moment he had grabbed her arm to cross the street with her. Because maybe their love hadn’t been written in the stars, but that mattered very little when they’d know each other by the cadence of the breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem that Meg reads to Castiel in this fic (and that inspired this fic) is called "Poem for My Love" by June Jordan, whose poems you should definitely check out because they're breathtakingly amazing.


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